To Be King
by Prophetic Fire
Summary: "I'm not asking you to be King—" Harrow's hand gently comes in to cradle Viren's cheek— "I'm asking you to be my husband. Will you say yes?"


He hasn't spoken to or even seen Harrow in weeks. He's been doing research. He thinks he might be on the verge of a breakthrough. Something that will finally set things right. Harrow deserves this much from him, and maybe, just maybe, if it won't ease the guilt in his heart, it might at least stop the nightmares. He's seen Sarai's face in his dreams every night since then.

He gets a letter. He's been summoned to the King's chambers for an audience. It isn't the first formal request he's received in recent days. He puts it on the pile with the others. He can't break his focus.

He gets another letter. Unsealed. Unadorned. In Harrow's own hand. Barely a dozen words.

_Please come and see me, Viren. I need to talk to you.  
__\- Harrow_

The spell isn't _finished_ yet, but he can't ignore Harrow directly. Funny, how an official royal summons means nothing to him, but the request of his friend is what does him in.

Well, not just his friend. He and Harrow have been so much more than friends for so long.

He walks into Harrow's chambers prepared to be suitably chastised for ignoring the summons, or for being so sparse as of late. But he finds Harrow staring out the window, a pensive gaze on his face.

"It's almost the anniversary," Harrow says.

Viren doesn't need Harrow to say which anniversary he's talking about. He knows. That's why he's been working so feverishly.

"I miss Sarai."

Hearing her name out loud is like a knife in his chest. He misses her too. He and Harrow had been a wildfire before she came along: quick to spark, burning hot, but reckless and unfocused. She had taken their blaze and added her own air to it, like a bellows to a forge fire: shaping it—and the three of them—into a force for creative potential and focused strength. He'd been so afraid to lose Harrow at first, but Sarai had knitted them all more firmly together.

They lost her years ago. And in that loss, even the fire that he and Harrow shared had begun to sputter. He loves Harrow still, but he's not sure where he stands with Harrow anymore. He'd bring Sarai back if he could. But, barring that…

"I've been working on—" Viren starts.

"I've been thinking—" Harrow says at the same time.

They both pause.

Harrow turns from the window.

"Viren."

His name sounds heavy on Harrow's tongue.

"I've been thinking…about Sarai. About her loss, and what that's meant to me."

But that's the _whole point_ of the spell! To _fix_ this!

"I—"

Harrow holds his hand up. "Viren, let me say this, or I'll never find the courage to say it again."

Viren watches as Harrow slowly wanders from the window toward the high-backed chair beside his bed. He scrubs his hands across his face, before letting them rest on the chair.

"I've been thinking about Sarai. She made me want to be a better person, and she helped me achieve it. I miss her every day. She didn't get to see the boys grow up, and she should have."

Viren's gut twists. It's his fault Sarai isn't here. He _knows_ that. And he's _trying_ to fix it—

"But what's done is done. I can't bring her back. And I keep thinking about…what Sarai would want. And realizing that I've been neglecting a very important part of myself." Harrow takes a breath. He looks up, but his eyes don't quite meet Viren's.

"You."

Viren's heart suddenly leaps into his throat. But he bites his tongue. He owes Harrow that much.

"What we were before Sarai…" Harrow continues, "that's never gone away. I loved you then and I love you still. And Sarai… She made us _both_ better. I admit I…lost sight of who we could be, without her. But I think… She wouldn't want vengeance. Or 'justice.'" He makes a gesture with his hands to indicate he doesn't mean true justice. "She would want us to choose happiness. And I'm willing and ready to make that choice now."

Harrow leaves the chair, and comes to stand before him.

"Viren, I don't want to spend the rest of my days alone. I want to share my life with someone I love. Freely, and without reservation. I want it to be official. I should have done this years ago, and I'm sorry it's taken me this long, but—"

He sinks to a knee before Viren.

"Will you marry me?"

A moment passes. Then two. Viren can barely comprehend the scene before him. He hasn't let himself imagine this in…_years_. Not since…well, since Sarai. He had loved a Prince, who became a King. And that King had duties that came before Viren, however he felt about him. He'd been blessed enough that Sarai had loved him too, and had bonded the three of them into something of a family. But he had stopped letting himself think that the secret desires of his heart would one day come to fruition. The most he could do was to try and avenge the woman who had let him stay so close to the man he loved. But this man doesn't _want_ that. He wants… He wants…

"Viren."

Harrow is looking up at him. His gaze is captivating. Full of emotions that Viren can't quite pick out.

"You can talk now. Please say something."

"I—"

For all that he's thought about this moment, now that it's here, he can't find the words. They seem stuck in his throat, a jumble of hope and fear and longing and insecurity and worry and care and—

Harrow brings the other knee down, so that he's kneeling on the floor. His gaze has shifted, so that he's not quite looking at Viren again. "If your feelings for me have changed…" he says softly.

That finally unsticks the words.

_"No, no, no Harrow. No."_

He sinks down in front of Harrow. Reaches out and puts both hands on his shoulders. His head is bowed. "My feelings…" His heart is pounding. "My feelings for you have not changed. They've never changed. I love you Harrow; of course I do. I just…"

He can feel Harrow tense beneath his grip.

He takes a breath. "I just…don't know how to be a king."

There's a pause. And then Harrow laughs. A short, sharp, incredulous laugh, followed by warm chuckles. He grips Viren's shoulders in return and pulls him closer, resting their foreheads together. "Oh, is that all? Viren don't scare me like that."

"I'm serious!" But Viren can't stop the smile from curling his lips upward, as what feels like relief courses through him.

Harrow pulls back, just enough to look Viren in the eyes again. "Viren, you are the most capable man I know. If _I_ can learn to be King, you most certainly could. And I would be honored to stand beside you. And all of Katolis would rejoice to have two kings. But I'm not asking you to be King—" Harrow's hand gently comes in to cradle Viren's cheek— "I'm asking you to be my husband. Will you say yes?"

There's nothing holding Viren's words back now.

_"Yes, Harrow. Yes. I will marry you, yes."_

Harrow closes the gap between them and kisses him. His lips are so soft, so warm. Viren doesn't remember the last time they were this close. They fit together perfectly. They always have. And now they always will.

Harrow deepens the kiss, and all thoughts of vengeance are chased from Viren's mind.


End file.
